Best Siddhartha Poems
The Bodhi Tree
I am a Bodhi Tree with branches reaching for the sky.
My cooling shade entreats a song, a lovely lullaby.
My roots run deep above and below the blessed ground
Where prayerful spirit looms my ancient trunk is found.
Siddhartha Gautama became Buddha beneath my tree.
In harmony reverent lines form to pay homage to me.
Enlightened beloved spiritual teacher of India’s grace,
My humble trunk was honored to smile upon his face.
5-24-22
Wisdom from Trees Poetry Contest~Second Place~
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
12-31-19
I am a tree Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Delilah Ventura
Categories:
siddhartha, devotion, sky, song, spiritual,
Form:
Couplet
Silence journey
I walk in the rain
Without cloak
In silence I pace
Gaze on the sky like an image
Of reality yet vague …..
Is it just me or us?
Seeking answer from gods
About life
Is it a fantasy or reality?
A glimpse of Siddhartha smile
There is a way….
Ah
Its karma to play yet
A must to pay …..
If it’s a poem then am dreamin ….
12/03/ 2012
Categories:
siddhartha, angst, mystery, sad,
Form:
Free verse
“I” is just a concept made by mind. Siddhartha Gautama
Mind has to dwell in a coerced seclusion:
mind is a prisoner of the conclusion
that mind is mine. I share your letdown,
my mind. Minds cannot shatter the illusion
of the first person singular pronoun.
5/6/2019
Writing Challenge 3, August 2019- Five Lines- Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode
Categories:
siddhartha, metaphor,
Form:
Rhyme
What is this word, betrayals?
How did it come to be?
Is it simply something less
Than you expected?
Did your hopes and your desires
Fall short of your aspires?
Perhaps others failed their duty
To protect you?
Did the trust you put in
Someone fail you?
Have you suffered grave
Abuse?
Did someone close
Back-stab you?
Was your loyalty
Unrequited?
Was contract breached or
Just misunderstanding?
Did a lover’s indiscretion
Distress you to the core?
Does your object of affection
Now love you less or more?
Did secrets kept
Destroy you? Or
Surprise with
Joy and excitation?
Was concealment
Worse than truth?
What cost to hide
Even from yourself?
Speak your truth, but speak with care
The truth can set you free!
But there is
No guarantee!
"Three things cannot long stay hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth."
Gautama Siddhartha, the Buddha
Categories:
siddhartha, absence, abuse, anxiety, betrayal,
Form:
Light Verse
With the invention of man came a myriad of difficulty and distress.
When the first australopithecine gained it bipedal wings and set sail on the journey to societal grandeur, origin was not an issue.
Complex societies emerged and spirituality often served as a road map to success.
Siddhartha Guatama rolled out the 8 Fold Path and the *****Sapiens followed, as the wise beings they were.
Mohammad advised his own followers from an arabian cave and Abraham guided his kin through the red sea.
People and technologies continued to evolve into better versions of themselves.
There seemed to be a certain cultural unity that fueled a near unanimous peace.
People seemed "color blind", agreeable, and understanding.
Soon though, things got out of hand when people grappled with designs that our founding fathers hadn't planned.
Power and ownership took over the world and with it went the peace.
There was schism upon schism amongst mankind and a bitter hatred settled over the earth.
But why?
We hated people for their skin color. The Apartheid and Triangular Trade drove the world into calamity.
Millions of peopled died in the name of the very religions that once coexisted in harmony.
World Wars were fought and concentration camps rose and fell like a revolving door and were holding pens where innocent people were treated like animals.
We need to return to our foundation and reestablish the very principles we lived by thousands of years ago.
The key to acceptance is tolerance and the key to tolerance is the abandonment of ignorance.
People must reunite and say, "I don't tolerate you. I accept you."
Categories:
siddhartha, history, world,
Form:
Free verse
Does the all mighty Buddha have it right
on the subject of life as suffering?
I sit here and contemplate, day and night,
scrunch my brain up in remembering
just how I have really ever suffered.
First, as an upper class young man of ease,
sheltered by family and mothered,
minimum efforts brought above average
success in most all that I tried in life.
One problem is I have no attachments,
no long held beliefs or fear of death's scythe,
the prescriptions for Buddha attainment.
Giving up suffering, a conscious act
makes Buddhahood hard for privileged, in fact.
Categories:
siddhartha, truth,
Form:
Sonnet
I travel a fistful of miles to attend
Your weekly sessions, and
The journey is always worth it.
I thank you, Guru Siddhartha Telang
For the gift of premium-free
Meditation--and sometimes yoga!--you
Bestow on Saturday mornings. For
Guiding me to terra incognita and back
With soothing words and music.
I thank you.
For the exceeding generosity with your time
My new-found metamorphosis, my cup
Overflows with gratitude. These titles I'm
Sure you'll modestly reject, but to me
You're a sage and a "Guru"
Thank you very much, indeed....
Date written and posted: 04/03/2016
Categories:
siddhartha, appreciation, for him, thank
Form:
Ode
yogi under the banyan tree
yogi under the bodhi tree
bikku under the banyan tree
waiting for release
bikku in blissful nibbhana
yogi in extinguishing moksha
Penniless poet under the tenement roof
Jazz organist under the pavement sky
Struggling novelist under the Riviera blue
Russian ballerina under the American umbrella
Apprentice painter under the Sistine Chapel
Sculptor Underground
waiting for the agent’s call
burning Anne Frank manuscripts in an air-raid fire
singular melodies drowned in the descending drone
Kafka writing without a morrow
van Gogh dabbing his tormented palette under the Arles sun
Sartre turning the Nobel Prize down for teenage girls
Siddhartha abandoning his body’s palace for the people’s pain
the common man unable to abandon his workload family
bikku under the bodhi tree
his body shrivelled under the saffron robe
his begging bowl filled by karma-earning hands
the last trichinosis-filled moksha meal
bikku rising on a thousand-petalled flower
bikku piercing through the cakras’ splendrous colours
bikku on a burning pyre
©T.Wignesan 1992
April 29, 1997
Paris
[from the collection : longhand notes (a binding of poems), 1999]
Categories:
siddhartha, funny,
Form:
Burlesque
Lord Buddha, the light of Asia.......
Lord Buddha was a son of King Suddhodana of the Gautama in India
He carried his name as Siddhartha during his childhood
He become a Buddha after found enlightenment under the Bodhi tree
where he went in deep contemplation of the Dharma, residing
in the perfect peace of nirvana
Lord Buddha died 2500 years ago but his teaching
of love and wisdom are still very much alive.
Lord Buddha was divine power of all wisdom
and truth who held love in this universe with faith
Whoever follows his teaching become free from selfishness,
hatred and greed.
Also, their heart gets purified with all his preachings
Lord Buddha opposed animal sacrifice and asked his followers
to stop cruelty and extend kindness to all living things.
He also asked his followers to take care of all the sick people
According to Hinduism he was known true reincarnation of Lord Vishnu
Let us spread his divine teaching and make this world peaceful
Because Lord Buddha is the light that illuminates always
Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka
Copyright @2004 Ravi Sathasivam
Categories:
siddhartha, faith, light, light, love,
Form:
Light Verse
I wish I had time for poetry and plays
My mind allowed
As I watched the same aged, bespectacled monk
For about the fifteenth time this month
Patter his bare feet
Upon the pavement
Of the dust filled lane.
Leaving me again
To contemplate
Broken shards of yesterday
In a faraway land that reminds me of
Secret Pacts made
To myself
In the time when
Getting too busy was never an option.
These the promises
Made in Nepalese skies
below the Lost Horizon
Of the Dalai Lama
Where,
I could not see
The coming years that would
Tumble earthwards
Like over ripe plums.
Nor the red Lama
Perched on an Annapurnan cliff
Chanting
Melodic verses
Centuries old
Tying a
Red ribbon round my
Wrist and soul.
There they lay.
Meditations that never were,
Given by Siddhartha, Confucius and, even a carpenter, from
Somewhere
Around
The Middle East.
Additionally,
They have even appeared
In soiled books,
Ashrams on the Ganges,
Scribbled on bar room napkins and
Occasionally
Confessed to
Unsuspecting passersby.
Where are these ruminations now
As the pages stick
Like books rarely read
In villages unseen
By streams only heard?
When all I want
Is a little respite from the traffic that
Hums next to the
Lane that is just beside my
Patio where that same monk will
Rise up
Early, don a saffron
Robe and greet dawn both eyes
Smiling.
Jeff Troyer
2006 (Chiang Mai, Thailand)
Categories:
siddhartha, me, philosophy, places, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
He was a new poet with the dew of youth
on his cheeks and childishness in his words.
He spoke of his God, of love, and of truth,
with a pony-tailed naïveté which implored.
Bicycles pedal through his posies chords.
He smiled, when he spoke of A. Ginsberg, man ...
nicotine stained the fingers on his hand.
Thinking of the beat poets, Rexroth he'd read,
tales in smoke-rings round his brow like a garland.
Dean was resurrected in the cock of his head.
This new rooster was just twenty-four,
one earring, bow lips and shy of pretense;
he wrote in a leather-bound book of war.
Yet, he was all about peace, and innocence;
for the world, the world, held troubles immense.
A rebel of peace, so like Siddhartha
to war he'd not go, not follow father.
A poet primed a new man with a calling
trying once again to call each man brother;
scrying with blood to stop mankind's falling.
*Double Dizain
Categories:
siddhartha, peace, visionary, war,
Form:
Dizain
One
What good is it, to complicate flesh and bone you've yet to know?
To paint portrait a brain only seeing the mask-y Face,
It is a canvas that is sure to lie.
What use is it, to flee a golden palace for a teeming forest?
When you keep a garden, pregnant with bosoms
And blooming fruits, wet juice down your chin,
Why be curious for soil that may only beget soil?
Siddhartha and I find ourselves akin. Such possibility!
We starve. Him on Bread, I on words.
Two
I find myself encase in gasping silver, floating on some Orinoco,
Holes poked to host the dry elbows, the crooked knees.
It is a peculiar box, and three sizes too small.
It is a sponge sighed shut to a scallop.
Do you know how it feels to breathe Ocean?
No. You've only once choked on your bathwater,
And birthed a conniption.
I breathe it every day. The lungs were only made for air.
But it is not my place to curse God's hands; it is to swallow you whole.
Would you be satisfied, Jonah, o Geppetto?
You would feel just how tight the casket is,
Rather than the sip of your sugared Lemonade.
Categories:
siddhartha, adventure, analogy, anxiety, depression,
Form:
Free verse
“It's a man's own mind, not his enemy or foe, that lures him to evil ways ” – Siddhartha Buddha
Our friends we follow
willingly and happily
enemies we scorn
but we of conscience know best
our devils come from within
Listen, be aware
there’s a right path and a wrong
refuse to give in
heavenly voices guide us
to eternal salvation
Categories:
siddhartha, philosophy,
Form:
Tanka
Jesus was not a choice
He was thrust upon me
From my youth
He gave his life
So I could live
And find salvation
And give and give
But take I must
For I’m a fool
Certain to die
And live like a tool
But the Buddha
He lived in between
Denial and joy
Siddhartha Gautama
Lived the middle way
Devadatta tried
To kill his soul
A Judas at best
They both it seems
Had the same goal.
The Euphrates
And the Ganges
Both still flow
And people
Have loved upon
Both banks
So I ask you this question
“How do I save my soul”?
With Jesus or Buddha
Whom do I pay the toll?
To live in heaven
Or back on the earth
As I try to become
An angel of mercy
A Bodhisattva I’m not
Though I’d like to
Get it right,
The first time I try
Hear me dear Lord
And tell me why?
Categories:
siddhartha, religion,
Form:
Free verse
I suppose the transcendence that is sought after
Will come from a potential difference
Belonging to an electron surge that will fill my cup
To the brim
So I can then tip my hat to the waiting masses
With phalanges that sparkle and emit tiny hurricanes
All for the honor and glory of the unrequited neural infarctions
That spun off of your lips
During those building moments where
We hung onto the precipice with the skin of our teeth
Yet there are no branches ejecting out from the side of this cliff
To grasp onto
During moments of terminal velocity
Yes
I thought someone would someday enter a vast trance and see everything
I had hoped I had this power
Not even Siddhartha could muster up this kind of energy
I suppose we are just beautiful collections of atoms afterall
Categories:
siddhartha, life, people,
Form:
Free verse